In our age of the world we come upon many playful forest
survivals of what were once grave things. Often in our play and
pastimes and lingering superstitions about the forest we cross faint
traces of what were once vital realities.
"Among these there has always been one that until recently I have
never understood. Among country people oftenest, but heard of
everywhere, is the saying that if a girl is caught standing under the
mistletoe, she may be kissed by the man who thus finds her. I have
always thought that this ceremony and playful sacrifice led back to
some ancient rite--I could not discover what. Now I know."
In a voice full of a new delicacy and scarcely audible, he told her.
It is another scene in the forest of Britain. This time it is not the
first day of the year--the New Year's day of the Druids when they
celebrated the national festival of the oak. But it is early summer,
perhaps the middle of May--May in England--with the young beauty of
the woods. It is some hushed evening at twilight. The new moon is
just silvering the tender leaves and creating a faint shadow under the
trees. The hawthorn is in bloom--red and white--and not far from the
spot, hidden in some fragrant tuft of this, a nightingale is singing,
singing, singing.
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